


softness & clarity

by dearestwinter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Eventual Smut, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Touch-Starved Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:07:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21888655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearestwinter/pseuds/dearestwinter
Summary: After the whole thing with the Nogitsune, Stiles finds in Peter the comfort he's not provided for anywhere else. One sleepless night, the unexpected happens.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 24
Kudos: 728
Collections: Steter Secret Santa 2019





	softness & clarity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CracklPop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CracklPop/gifts).



> happy holidays!
> 
> english is not my native language, so i apologize if there are any spelling mistakes.

> _ "You have the sun in you, and the softness and the clarity." - Anais Nin, The Four-Chambered Heart.  
>    
>  _

_Quiet mornings are the absolute best,_ Stiles thinks.

He's currently watching the warm sunrays filtering through the curtains in Peter's bedroom, casting it in a soft glow. The alarm hasn't gone off yet, and Stiles cranes his head a bit to his side to watch the clock, mindful of not making any sound. By his side, Peter is still asleep, breathing calm and steady, and will be for a few more minutes if Stiles stays still. He finds it's not so hard to do, and besides, the sight is too nice to disturb it with his trademark restlessness.

Stiles has no idea how he got here, to be honest. Here not precisely being Peter's bed, but the situation. He and Peter are just friends, good friends, _too_ good friends (for Scott and the rest of the pack's tastes). Still, there are times when Stiles can't stand being so lonely; after what happened with the Nogitsune last year, things have drastically changed. Stiles is not the same boy he once was, the guilt about Allison's death is crushing, and the pack seems to be too scared that he might one day turn against them again. Stiles mostly keeps to himself nowadays, and he usually tries not to care too much, but it hits him hard when he comes home and doesn't even find his dad there. Now that the Sheriff knows about the supernatural, he has started working double shifts.

The worst thing is the silence.

It's loud, and it seems to Stiles it gets louder the more he thinks about it. He can remember what his house was like when he was a child, when his mom used to sing in the kitchen as she made breakfast, her body swinging to the rhythm of whatever song was on the radio. Or when his dad used to come back early from work on a Tuesday night and Stiles would find them moving through the place as if they were one, talking in hushed voices and laughing softly as they set the table.

There's no music at home anymore, and there seems to be no laughter either. He can barely call it a home now.

It all begins one night when Stiles comes home late; there has been a fight with three rogue vampires who were on a killing spree all across the country, and they have come to Beacon Hills because _why the hell not_. Little did they know their last stop would be here, mostly thanks to Peter and him. If Scott and the pack had gotten their way, the vampires would have been sent to Eichen House, or worse, they would have let them go with only a warning to behave or else.

Scott was so mad at Stiles when he saw what Peter and he were doing, with a little bit of help from Derek too. Stiles doesn't care as much as he should, since he thinks it's for the best that the vampires are dead. Scott should be grateful that Stiles even agreed to help them, given that they've barely spoken to each other in the last few months.

He tosses and turns in his bed for what seems like hours, letting out a frustrated sigh before grabbing his phone. Stiles isn't sure of what he is doing when he opens the message app, his eyes stopping at Peter's name. He taps on the chat, and he can't help the fond smile at reading their conversations over the weeks. Trivial things, honestly, but it warms Stiles' heart to see that Peter has answered all of his texts, even those that are not really worth replying to, like Stiles' bad jokes.

Stiles does it before his sudden courage leaves him, and holds his breath as he sends the text, asking if he can come over to Peter's apartment at almost three in the morning. He stares at the screen, and he's about to say fuck it and go back to bed when Peter replies. As soon as Stiles reads the _of course_ inside the grey bubble, he's out of his house and in his Jeep quicker than he would like to admit.

After this, Stiles has been staying the night at Peter's more often than not. It's nothing sexual, although Stiles' cock would very much beg to differ. And it has been easy to fall into a routine: Stiles comes home late, he makes dinner, waits until midnight to text Peter, and goes to his apartment with clean clothes and his toiletries inside his school bag so he can be ready in the morning.

For a couple of weeks, Peter has opened the door to his apartment personally, but now he just leaves it unlocked for Stiles. He doesn't mind, though; it's worth it to see Peter's peaceful face as he sleeps, lying on the left side of the bed. He just has to be extra careful so he doesn't wake Peter when Stiles undresses down to his boxers and gets in the bed, but he's never done it before, not even when he cuddles up to Peter, his hand resting on the soft warm skin of Peter's waist.

The night of the first change in routine comes maybe a month later, and it's Stiles' fault.

After he comes home from school, Stiles gets so engrossed into the Chemistry essay he has been pushing back for a few days now, that it's quite a few hours past midnight when he decides to take a bathroom break and eat a snack. He curses under his breath when he grabs his phone and checks the time, and he shoots a quick text to Peter, apologizing for the ungodly hour although Peter never makes a comment about it when they have breakfast together in the morning. Stiles gets everything he needs and is off to the apartment.

Or so he thinks. Lately Stiles has been having troubles of all kinds, and insomnia is _definitely_ one of those. So he usually waits until he's parked the Jeep outside Peter's place to pop in a sleeping pill. He's so used to it, he thinks nothing of it, but tonight he forgets to put the bottle in his backpack from where it rests on his nightstand. Stiles realizes this when, an hour later, he's still trying to will his eyes to stay closed for more than ten seconds.

He's busy cursing himself and his fucking brain when he feels Peter's body shift by his side, drawing himself closer to Stiles. Reflex reaction makes him close his eyes, but his heartbeat skyrockets a few seconds later when he feels Peter's lips press against his forehead in a soft kiss.

Stiles lies there still as a statue for a long time, trying to hear anything coming from Peter that might tell him the man is awake, but his breathing is as calm as before. When the initial shock wears off, Stiles is so giddy he wants to laugh. Peter's face is just inches away from his, and Stiles takes in all of the man's features, the plush lips and the five o'clock shadow, the straight nose. He kind of wishes he could see Peter's blue eyes right now, knowing they would twinkle under the light of the streetlamp outside.

He doesn't sleep that night, but for the first time, it's not because of his insomnia or a nightmare.

The following nights are not an exception. Stiles is smart enough to pick up a pattern, but he still feels stupid for not finding out sooner about Peter's tendency to kiss his forehead in his sleep. It's such a tiny gesture, so _unlike_ Peter, that it still surprises Stiles even a week later. Stiles is not ashamed to admit he's coming to Peter's apartment every night now and fights tooth and nail not to fall asleep so he can feel the man's arm tighten slightly around his waist, and then the searing kiss on his forehead. Stiles tries to recall the last time someone's kissed him or he's kissed someone in any way, and he feels a hurt pang in his chest when he realizes it's been too long.

It's also been too long since he's felt _any_ kind of human contact except the one Peter provides. He's barely on speaking terms with his friends (and Stiles is not even entirely sure he should still call them that), it's logical that they wouldn't touch him if they feel scared the Nogitsune might still have some sort of control over him. Not even his dad is eager to hug Stiles as much as he used to, only tentatively clapping his shoulder every now and then. It makes Stiles want to scream to everybody that it's over, he's himself, there's no one else inside his head now. Peter is the only one who gets it, who gets what Stiles needs, and doesn't treat him like he's made of glass. Or like there's something wrong with him.

It's a few nights later, as Stiles stares at Peter's sleeping face, when he can't stand it anymore. It is so natural the way Stiles' hand rises to Peter's warm cheek, and he draws himself closer slowly to press a kiss to the man's brow. Stiles stays still for a few seconds, ready for anything to be honest, or well maybe not _anything_ because he's not ready for Peter opening his gleaming sea-blue eyes and asking in a husky voice:

"What was that for?"

Stiles flinches badly, almost falling out of bed in the process, and Peter holds him steady but gently by the wrist.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry, I..."

"There's no need to apologize, sweetheart," he says.

 _But there is._ Stiles feels like he's violated some unspoken rule between them. Because so far this hasn't been sexual, even if Stiles wants that to change. Peter's been a good friend, a good _pack mate,_ to comfort Stiles in his need for closeness. Isn't that all?

Isn't it?

Peter puts a hand on Stiles' shoulder and pushes down slightly, making him fall back onto the mattress since he was propping himself up on his elbow. He wants to say something because he's scared Peter might tell him to go back to sleep and that they'll talk in the morning. And what if Peter tells him he doesn't want Stiles in his bed anymore? Stiles doesn't think he could stand sleeping alone in his own bed when he knows what it feels like to sleep next to Peter now.

"Tell me what you want, baby," Peter says instead.

Stiles feels his heart or his cock might burst soon. "You, please. I need you, Peter, I don't..."

His words are cut off by Peter's lips on his.

It's nothing more than a peck honestly, but Stiles can feel it with absolute clarity. The warmth, the softness, the smell of Peter's skin so close to his body, and has he always smelled this _good?_ Stiles can't remember. He can barely think as the emotions overwhelm him, he can only think he needs _so much more._

 __Peter seems to know, because he _always_ does seem to know when it comes to Stiles. He wonders for a second when this came to happen, but forgets all about it when Peter kisses a trail down to his neck. His breath makes Stiles' skin tingle, but it doesn't matter, not when Peter's tongue is licking and tasting. He leaves a kiss on his pulse point, and Stiles fists a hand in Peter's short hair.

" _More_ ".

Peter doesn't need to be told twice. His hands are everywhere, their touch searing itself into Stiles' skin, and he feels he could die right now and it wouldn't matter at all. He doesn't think he's ever wanted something so badly, and it scares him a bit. But Peter's eyes are all the assurance he needs. Everything goes quickly, but the tenderness makes up for it. Next thing he knows, Peter has two fingers toying with the waistband of his boxers, looking up to Stiles for his green light. Words are not even needed.

Strangely, Stiles doesn't feel self-conscious being completely naked, but he figures that Peter's hungry gaze might be the reason why. Peter takes a long moment to watch Stiles' body before he snaps out of it and Stiles feels long fingers caressing the soft skin of his thigh, almost like they're tracing the moles scattered there with feather-like touches. Stiles allows himself to close his eyes, to enjoy the nice tingling sensation that reaches down to his toes. Peter kisses and nips his way up to his Stiles' cock, and when Stiles opens his eyes, he finds a pair of electric blue ones staring up at him. He nods.

Peter's hands grip Stiles' thighs firmly to part them even more, and does not hesitate as he dives in, smoothly taking the boy's length down to the base. Stiles thinks he could die happy right in this moment, buried deep inside the wet heat of Peter's mouth. He has to muster all of the self-control he has left not to spend himself when Peter's tongue traces the slit and sucks. Stiles moans, and his hands involuntarily fists in Peter's hair. After a while, Stiles' legs start to shake due to his approaching climax, and he groans when he suddenly feels Peter's hot mouth abandoning his cock.

In one smooth movement, Stiles is being flipped around on the bed, ass high in the air. He lets out a harsh breath when his lungs start receiving air again, and thinks _fucking werewolves._ But all coherent thought flies out of his mind when he feels Peter's hands on his body again, more specifically kneading the globes of his ass. One of those hands travel up Stiles' abdomen to his mouth, and immediately opens it to welcome Peter's fingers in. Stiles is so hard he could cut bricks with his cock, and does a quick work of coating the fingers in saliva. 

It burns. A lot. Even more than when he does it sometimes in the privacy of his shower. And Stiles winces, and knows it's nothing compared to the _real thing_. Peter for his part drops a few kisses on the small of his back as he moves the digits in and out of the tight rim. After a couple of minutes, however, the burning stops and it's replaced by the most Earth-shattering sensation he's ever felt. He moans and mumbles something that doesn't even make sense to himself, much less to Peter.

Peter wastes no time in getting rid of his underwear, and Stiles tries to turn his head around to sneak a peek, but a big hand on the back of his neck doesn't let him. He buries his face on the nice-smelling pillow, and hears the drawer being opened, followed by a quick rustle. Peter's cock when it enters him is cold and wet by the lube, but it feels like Heaven. Stiles hears him take a sharp breath, and Peter's (thankfully human) nails almost break the flesh of his hips where he's gripping them. He starts moving, slowly at first, and then picking up the pace when Stiles' groans turn into moans. 

He shifts his hips slightly under Peter's tight grip, but it's enough to make him feel the man's cock rubbing his prostate again. It's too much, he feels himself closer and closer to the edge. Stiles has never felt anything even remotely close to what he's feeling right now, and he's not even talking about the amazing sex. His whole body feels like a raw wire, so _so_ hot, and he can feel Peter's torso pressed against his back, the heat radiating from him, the hands, the low grunts, and Stiles comes so hard he passes out, but not before hearing Peter whisper his name reverently in his ear and feeling his seed deep inside him.

Stiles doesn't remember when or if it was even him so turned to lie on his back and pulled the covers up to his chest. Peter's lying on his side, and Stiles feels his eyes on him. He has his closed, but he knows that Peter knows he's not asleep. For several minutes there's no need for any of them to break the silence, but eventually Stiles opens his eyes and turns to face Peter. He has a soft smirk on his lips, and Stiles is not quite sure he knows the meaning behind it, but then Peter raises a warm hand to cup his cheek, his thumb drawing circles under his eye.

"You asked me what my kiss was for," says Stiles, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Hmm?"

"It's you. Every night you kiss my forehead in your sleep, that's why I did it."

Stiles wishes he could look like Peter when he's caught by surprise, since the man only raises an eyebrow at what he's said. And maybe it's not so much of a surprise, because he says, "It's what I've been wanting to do for months, among other things. It seems my unconsciousness has beaten me up to it."

Stiles lets out a delighted laugh, the first real one in a long time, and thinks he _finally_ knows the meaning of being home.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr.](http://maegelletargaryen.tumblr.com)


End file.
